


bête noire

by clxude



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: But different, Established Relationship, I blame chapter 217, M/M, Time Skips, like akaashi's list of bokuto's weaknesses, words kunimi akira hates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-05
Updated: 2016-08-05
Packaged: 2018-07-29 13:40:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7686727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clxude/pseuds/clxude
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>bête noire: a person or thing especially disliked or dreaded; bane</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Yuutarou doesn't remember a time before he knew Kunimi, and he likes it that way. He likes having Kunimi beside him, and will do anything for his boyfriend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	bête noire

**Author's Note:**

> ok so I really need to work on hqbb because I haven't even reached 4k yet but I think this got me out of my writer's block?? maybe?? But I blame applepiedawn for commenting [this](http://applepiedawn.tumblr.com/post/148468069910/mother-iwa-chan-same-kunimi-okay-but-does/) on one of my posts

Yuutarou can’t remember a time in his life when he didn’t know Akira. He knows, distantly, that there was a time when they were strangers, back before either of them moved to Miyagi. He’s in his second year of high school; his first days of elementary school and meeting Akira became clouded long ago. 

 

He taps the eraser end of his pencil against his desk. He’s turned slightly, looking over his shoulder to where Akira is dozing on top of his covers. It’s nothing new. Akira’s narcolepsy has always been bad, but since starting their second year at Seijoh, volleyball has only become more demanding, taking an even heavier toll on Akira. 

 

Akira sleeps in his bed more often than his own these days, but Yuutarou doesn’t really mind all that much. Even if Akira does drool more than Yuutarou had ever known to be possible, it’s not the worse thing.

 

He turns back to the blank page of his literature composition book. He’s supposed to be writing notes on that night’s reading. Instead, he’s doodling Akira in the margins. He flips to a new page, but instead of finishing up his homework, he scribbles out a header.

 

_ Words That Kunimi Akira Hates… _

  
  
  


**_i. it’s time to wake up_ **

 

It’s early spring, the end of first year. The wind is hitting the roof hard, making the air frosty. Yuutarou frowns as he picks at his bento. He’s not sure why he and Akira sit up here every day, regardless of weather. If anything, Akira gets a warm body to sleep against, and Yuutarou freezes half to death while his boyfriend slowly leaches off all of his body heat and makes his leg fall asleep. 

 

As he snaps the lid back on his bento, Yuutarou can feel drool developing a wet spot on his pants. He doesn’t think it will show too badly, and even if it does, he’s not quite sure why someone would be looking at his calves that intently. At least, he hopes no one is. He doesn’t really like explaining why Akira has commandeered his leg as a pillow.

 

He glances at his phone quickly, swearing quietly when he notices the time. The bell should be ringing soon. Waking up Akira always takes longer than it should, whether it’s because he’s cold and doesn’t want to move, or his narcolepsy is worse than usual. 

 

“Akira?” Yuutarou brushes back his hair, and tries to not jerk back when he feels how cold the skin is under his touch. “Come on, the bell is ringing soon. It’s time to wake up.”

 

Akira rolls over, and blinks sleepily up at Yuutarou. He then proceeds to immediately fall back asleep, clinging even tighter to Yuutarou’s calf. 

 

“Come on, Akira,” Yuutarou repeats, rubbing the sleeping teen’s cheek. “We need to get to class soon.”

 

“Don’t wanna go,” is the muffled reply. “Rather sleep here with you.”

 

“So you are awake?” 

 

“No.”

 

“There’s no need to lie,” Yuutarou says as he disentangles Akira. “Up you go. I’ll buy you something from the vending machine. Do you want a chocolate bar?” 

 

Akira is off the roof and down the stairs to the vending machines before he can blink.

  
  
  


**_ii. give it your all_ **

 

Akira would always disappear after dinner at the training camp for Miyagi first years. Yuutarou didn’t question it; it wasn’t hard to find him as long as he was just tucked away in a classroom down the hall, sleeping under a desk with his jacket serving as a pillow. 

 

Everyone at Seijoh was used to how Kunimi functioned by this point, but that didn’t mean the people running the camp at Shiratorizawa knew it as well. 

 

Coach Saitou pulled him aside the third time Akira didn’t show up after dinner, frowning heavily.

 

“Where’s Kunimi-kun?”

 

“Uh - like right now?” Yuutarou tilts his head, confused. “Probably sleeping. Did Coach not tell you?”

 

“Tell me  _ what?”  _ Yuutarou opens his mouth to respond, but Saitou turns around, already pulling a cellphone out of his pocket. “Nevermind, not now. I need to talk to your coach.”

 

Yuutarou is left standing along the sidelines, vaguely confused and not entirely certain what one would do in this position.

 

…

 

Yuutarou doesn’t go back to practice. He finds Akira in a history room, in a back corner and borrowed under his warmup jacket. He’s awake, but not entirely, but drifting between sleep and conscientiousness. When he sees Yuutarou, he smiles, and gestures for him to sit down. Akira ends up sandwiched between the wall and Yuutarou. He hums contently, tucking his chin beneath Yuutarou’s jaw. 

 

“Why aren’t you at practice?” Yuutarou finally asks a few minutes later. “You don’t look as tired as you did during lunch.”

 

Akira shrugs.

 

“Coach Saitou was upset when you weren’t there.”

 

“He wants me to give my all,” Akira finally mumbles, but Yuutarou can still make out the words.

 

“What’s wrong with that?”

 

“I… like how I play now. I don’t get as tired as quickly. I like playing, and I want to stay on the court, I guess, but when they push me like that, I - can’t.”

 

“Then you’ll just have to prove them wrong then, won’t you?”

  
  
  


**_iii. try, kunimi_ **

 

The scrimmage isn’t going in their favor, but neither have half the games they’ve played since the third years graduated a few months ago. This year’s third years are good, strong, but they’re just not Oikawa and Iwaizumi, Hanamaki and Matsukawa. It’s just a fact, and nothing is going to change that. 

 

Yuutarou is back right, and his view of the other team’s server is fairly unobstructed. It’s just an overhand serve, no wild jump with unbelievable force behind it, and Watari has no problem picking it up and sending it to Yahaba. Normally, he would send it to Kyoutani to break through the block, but the ace is out with a twisted ankle, leaving just a first year with a six-foot blocker on him and Akira with the other two. The first year is still shaky on his feet, so the obvious choice, the logical choice, is to send it to Akira, the player with more experience under his belt. 

 

Akira barely moves, just tilts his head up to watch the ball zoom by overhead. And Yuutarou realizes then, faintly, that something had been  _ off  _ that day, not just for the team, but for Akira especially. 

 

“You gotta try, Kunimi-kun!” Watari calls from the back, clapping his hands together twice. “Approach and follow through. You have to try.”

 

Something was off that day. 

 

Akira doesn’t sleep on the bus ride back to school, and instead curls up in the last seat, headphones on, unresponsive even to Yuutarou.

  
  
  


**_iv. do you ever do more than sleep?_ **

 

It’s fall of first year, a week before their first round of finals. The air is growing colder, dragging out the nights until it’s only truly bright at noon. Akira is sleeping a few rows away from Yuutarou, hunched over his English textbook. 

 

The teacher doesn’t notice for a while, too busy writing on the board and reading passages from some classic that Yuutarou isn’t sure the name or plot of. 

 

But, he also can’t wake up Akira, without drawing attention to the sleeping boy and himself. He taps his pencil against his desk, but tries to stop bouncing his leg, because his legs are too long and make the desk creak whenever he shifts. 

 

When the teacher finally turns around, they tut, and pick up the meter stick they keep leaning against the wall in the corner. Everyone braces themselves; they’ve all seen this enough times to know what’s coming. 

 

Akira flinches when the meter stick hits his desk, and scrambles to sit up. He frowns at the teacher, before wiping drool off his cheek with the back of his hand. 

 

“Sato-kun,” the teacher says as they place the meter stick back in the corner. “Please take Kunimi-kun to the Vice Principal’s office. I don’t want anyone sleeping in my class. I swear, Kunimi-kun, is that all you do? Do you ever do more than sleep?”

 

It turns out, Sato-kun didn’t need to take Akira anywhere. He already left the classroom, hands pulled up in his sleeves and shoulders hunched.

 

Yuutarou wishes he could have done more.

  
  
  


**_v. do you even care?_ **

 

It’s the end of second year, and Yuutarou can’t remember a time before Akira came into his life. He knows him well, from the things he loves to the things he hates. And he cares, and tries to make Akira happy, even as people constantly tear him down.

 

It’s the second match of the spring tournament, and all of the third years have already left after they barely forced their way into the top eight. This tournament is looking even worse, with a set lost to the other team, and ten points behind in the second. 

 

Akira was subbed out halfway through the first set for a tiny first, who reminds Yuutarou of Karasuno’s shrimpy back in middle school, before he and Kageyama met. He fumbles most of his spikes, and almost all of his receives go wayward. But, he was moving, going after even balls that were obviously out, which was enough for the coach and captain. 

 

Once the rotation forces Yuutarou into the backline, he’s subbed out for their libero. He sits next to Akira, and places a shy hand next to other boy’s, brushing his fingers back and forth slowly. Akira shifts his hand, and Yuutarou starts to pull back, to keep his hands in his lap and not touch others, but Akira stops him, turning his wrist to grip Yuutarou’s fingers.

 

…

 

They lose the game, and their overall ranking drops to top sixteen. Everyone remembers when Aoba Josai was a powerhouse, rivaled only by Shiratorizawa. 

 

Yuutarou and Akira walk out side by side, bags tossed over their shoulders. Yuutarou bumps his hip against Akira’s a few times, trying to pull out some semblance of a smile. Yuutarou keeps his eyes on the floor for the most part, not interested in seeing the tear streaked faces of his teammates. 

 

“Kunimi-chan.”

 

He looks up to see who’s talking, and stops dead in his tracks when he realizes it’s Oikawa. Akira stops as well, a few inches behind Yuutarou.

 

“I watched the game. I wanted to come back and see that the team wasn’t in shambles without me.” Oikawa tilts his head, eyes harsh. “Nothing has changed with you. Tell me honestly, Kunimi-chan, do you even care?”

 

Akira takes a step back, and at the same time, Yuutarou steps forward. 

 

“How can you say that to him?!” Yuutarou struggles not to shout. “You know he’s fucking trying. Not everyone can be you, and not everyone can be Kageyama! You of all people should know that.

 

“Besides, who’s idea was to trade him for someone who might be even worse than Karasuno’s shrimpy? At least Akira can actually play!”

 

Yuutarou is breathing hard by the time he finishes yelling at his old captain. Oikawa, however, just looks vaguely entertained. 

 

“Done defending your boyfriend’s honor?”

 

Yuutarou blushes and nods. “Yes, senpai. I - I’m sorry, senpai.”

 

“Good. Don’t let Yahaba and I down next year as well.”

 

As soon as Oikawa turns around, Akira wraps his arms around Yuutarou’s waist, trapping his arms at his side, and digs his chin into the base of Yuutarou’s neck. 

 

“Thank you,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to Yuutarou’s shoulder.

 

“Anything for you.”

 

…

  
He knows Kunimi Akira better than anyone, and Kindaichi Yuutarou likes it that way.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and Kudos are always appreciated. Requests are welcome at my [tumblr](http://mother-iwa-chan.tumblr.com/)


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